


Kinktober Fic Collection

by harabote



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Revenge Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harabote/pseuds/harabote
Summary: A collection of the fics I'm writing for kinktober. Some I instead drew art for, so there will be gaps. Updated as necessary.
Relationships: Yang Wenli/Mob, Yang Wenli/Other(s)
Kudos: 12





	Kinktober Fic Collection

**Author's Note:**

> for the love of god please just read the fucking tags

The sound of skin against skin always made Yang uncomfortable, whether it was coming from a room over or the result of his loneliness taking over and guiding him to do something he'd regret in the coming moments. The way it echoed, sounding so inherently lewd even if nothing were happening...

  
Well, that didn't really apply here at all. But it certainly didn't make him feel better that it was as straightforwardly sexual as one would expect.

  
"Ha... ah..." His own gasps don't sound like his own. Was it because he was trying to forget about his current situation? Or was he truly losing himself through hours of satisfaction and depravity?

  
More slapping. More skin against skin. It's faster now.

  
"You're amazing," the man above him wheezes. He doesn't recognize him at all, but they share a uniform. Judging by the patches and lack of other decoration, he's ranks below him. Yang's actually jealous of the fact.

  
_Maybe he'd be here instead,_ he jokes to himself. It doesn't make him laugh.

  
The unfamiliar man's fingers dig into his thighs. In this position, his back pressed so firmly against the back of the toilet it's painful, his legs up in the air and held to either side of the stall walls, he's entirely exposed. He can barely see from this position, but he has writing all over his legs and stomach. He can't see them all, but he can count at least 15 tally marks.

  
His stomach twists somewhere between disgust and pleasure. He's been used nonstop all day, not a single second of rest. Dryly, he wonders why, even when being constantly filled by unfamiliar men and slapped around by the rowdier ones, that this is still better than his normal job.

  
He's disgusting. More regret, and this isn't even by his own choice.

  
Yang looks back to the man. He's fucking him with all of his energy, his face flushed and sweaty and his fingers digging into his thighs so hard now that he knows he'll leave bruises. He's the same as everyone else.

"The Hero of El Facil," he barely spits out, thrusts out of rhythm and rough. At this point, he's just doing all in his power to cum, even if it means being messy. "I never thought you'd be so soft..."

His face is red, but now he's mad. _Are you talking about my ass, or my weight? Either way, I don't want to hear it._

Humor is the only way he can even begin to process this level of trauma. By now, he's somewhere between destroyed and exhausted, so tired of this constant degradation and rough treatment that he wants to go home and sleep for a month.

Truniht definitely won't allow it. After that stunt he pulled, he pissed him off enough that he has no idea when he'll let this end. At the end of the day? At the end of the _line?_

Yang isn't about to see the almost never-ending line of men excited to humiliate him just as the first 15 or so have. He doesn't want to think about it. This is just like everything else that's happened in his time in the military. It's easier to look away. Pretend it doesn't hurt. Pretend it's not ripping him apart both literally and physically.

The man above him slams his hips against his and spills inside. He can barely feel the latter part of it, but it disgusts him knowing that yet another man he doesn't know and will never see again has filled him. He want to claw it out and run away, run f _ar_ away, but that's not an option.

The man kisses him on the lips, something Yang tries and fails to avoid, his tongue slipping past and getting a taste of him before adding another tally mark to his skin. He leaves the soiled hero to please another low life in the line without another thought.

The door opens. Closes. Opens again.

Here comes yet another thing to forget.


End file.
